


Red Robin (Yum)

by greenalms



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen, Jean is really unsubtle about his crush, M/M, Oneshot, Red Robin AU, Red Robin Happy Birthday Song, Seductively eats mozzarella sticks, Sexual Frustration, Yum, sexual fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 22:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1404598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenalms/pseuds/greenalms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean has been working at Red Robin in the town where he goes to school since he started there. And every single day, without fail, a young, handsome, freckled man comes in during the dinner rush. Without fail, he ends up at one of Jean's tables, orders the same damn thing, and gives Jean the most awkward boner of his lifetime. Every single day.</p>
<p>Who knew fried cheese could be so sexy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Robin (Yum)

**Author's Note:**

> I totally and completely blame [Ballin](http://balliste.tumblr.com/) for this AU. It's all her fault. 
> 
> This is for you Ballin.
> 
> Happy Happy Birthday -- I'm not singing the whole god damn song.

Jean ran in the employee entrance, cursing under his breath and hoping that the manager wasn’t watching the clock. He was only two minutes late, but he was not going to risk getting on the meticulous neat freak’s bad side during the first week of the busiest quarter of the year. He brushed by Connie’s shoulder as he pulled off his hoodie.

“Jean? Dude, it’s three minutes after…”

“I know, Connie!”

“How the hell did you manage that when I was the one who drove you here?” Connie scoffed.

“Shut up! I—“

“You’re late.”

Jean froze and glanced over his shoulder. The manager, Levi, had appeared behind them, and judging from the expression on his usually stoic face, he wasn’t happy.

_‘Nice knowing you,’_ Connie mouthed over Levi’s shoulder as he slid by. Jean shrunk.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing out of his mouth.

“I would hope you’d be sorry showing up three minutes late on the third night of the _busiest season of the goddamn year,_ ” Levi hissed. He threw a pair of large rubber gloves.

“Clock in and then go clean the bathrooms.”

“What? But don’t I have tables-?”

“Not yet you don’t,” Levi told him. “Annie doesn’t get off for another fifteen minutes, and you look like you’re about to shit your pants. At least this way you can clean up after yourself.”

Har-dee-har-har. 

Jean grumbled as he hung up his hoodie and trudged through the red-light mist of the restaurant, trying to avoid stares and Connie and Sasha laughing at him. Annie eyed him as he walked past, and he could only imagine the ass-kicking he’d get from her if he made her wait to leave. Like hell he was gonna risk half-assing the job and getting another scolding from Levi, though. He had important shit to do tonight.

Important shit like maybe, _finally_ work up the nerve to give Marco Bodt his phone number. 

Marco was one of the regulars from his school that showed up every day sometime between the start of Jean’s shift at 4:30 and 7:00pm, depending on when he got out of work. By some grace of God (or some shifty maneuvering by Krista and Ymir—the dinnertime hostesses), he without fail ended up at one of Jean’s tables, ordering the same thing day after day. 

Slowly but surely, Jean ended up developing a massive crush on the guy. The way he smiled up at him from his seat, and how his brown eyes shifted color in the hazy red lighting of the restaurant. And _God_ his freckles. Jean felt like such a creep trying to count them from over the counter, always losing track at around forty or so. They were just so cute…

Of course, there had never been any reason to think anything of it aside from being a stupid crush he only ever thought about at work until about three nights ago, when there had been a dinner rush like no other and every single one of Jean’s tables was filled. And then Marco walked in.

“Oh! Good evening, Marco!” Krista had greeted. Jean had frozen up immediately, forgetting the entire order he’d been inputting into the system behind them. Of all times to walk in, it had to be now? What if he got seated at someone else’s table and they didn’t bring him his root beer right away? Or ordered the burger medium-well instead of medium-rare? Or worse, what if he got put at one of Connie’s tables and the moron accidentally let something slip? What if Connie _intentionally_ let something slip? 

“Unfortunately, there’s like a twenty minute wait,” Ymir piped up. Jean breathed again. Was there really? Then there was hope yet. 

“Aw, really?” Marco asked, looking around. “But wait, isn’t that an open table?”

_Shit!_

“Uh, not today!” Krista stammered. “We… uh… that table is reserved.”

“Red Robins takes reservations?” Marco asked incredulously. What the fuck, Krista? Where did that excuse come from? Jean tried to brush it off and finished inputting the order, forcing himself to move on and not finish listening to the hostesses bullshit their way through making Marco wait when there were actually plenty of tables available. 

Not ten minutes later, Ymir tapped him on the shoulder.

“Freckles is ready for you,” she said, pointing over to the table underneath the baseball flag. Somehow they’d managed in ten minutes to get Marco into his full-up-to-the-brim section. Jean was immediately suspicious.

“How the fuck--?”

“You’re welcome.”

Ymir turned on her heel and walked away, and Jean stared at her openmouthed with confusion. 

_At least you still get to talk to him,_ he reassured himself as he input the first part of Marco’s regular order and pulled some root beer from the fountain dispenser. He walked over and set the drink down.

“Hey, Marco,” he greeted, as usual. And then Marco had done something completely unexpected. He squeaked, jumped and turned about as red as the light hovering over his face.

“H-hi, Jean,” he’d said back. Jean raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Oh! Um, yeah, sorry, I just… rough day at work,” he stuttered with a shrug. Jean leaned on the table and placed a hand on his hip. Marco was one of the shittiest liars he’d ever met, but if he didn’t want to talk about it, then Jean wasn’t going to—

“You never startle like that when you’ve had a bad day,” Jean blurted. _WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?_ he screamed mentally. “You usually just fold your arms up and try to nap on them. Seriously, dude, what’s up?”

“You… notice that?” Marco asked. And then it was Jean’s turn to blush and pray to God that the red light covered it up. “Uh, I just was deep in thought, I guess.”

“About?”

“Uh… personal stuff.”

“Oh, okay.”

_‘Oh, okay?!’ Seriously, could you be more inept?_ he scolded himself. _Say something that doesn’t make you sound like an insensitive asshole._

“Maybe some food will cheer you up,” he threw in. “I bet your appetizer’s ready.”

“I hope so, I’m starving,” Marco replied, finally brightening up and smiling at him. Jean breathed a sigh of relief, and with a quick ‘be right back,’ he turned away. After dealing quickly with a few of his other tables, he’d run to the back, scooped up the appetizer and nearly spilled marinara sauce all over his hands on his way to Marco’s table.

“There you go, fresh off the fryer,” he’d announced with a cheeky grin. Marco gave a short laugh and picked up one of the pieces, taking the smallest, most careful bite off the end possible.

And that was the instant Jean knew something was definitely up. He told Marco he’d be back with the burger soon, and marched straight over to the hostess’ booth.

“What the _fuck_ did you say to him?!” he demanded, turning Ymir around by the shoulders. She simply grinned at him.

“Something wrong, Jean?”

“He’s acting all weird. He was fine when he came in, I saw him! What the hell did you say to him while you were making him wait for no reason? He’s eating his mozzarella sticks like their poisonous or something!”

“Aw, disappointed?” Ymir teased. 

_Yes,_ was the immediate answer that had come to his mind, which caused him to blush furiously. It was shameful, but half of the reason his stupid crush on Marco had even started was because of those God damn mozzarella sticks. Marco ate them like a five-year-old would, taking a bite of the end and stretching the melted gooey cheese out as far as it would go before lapping it up with his tongue. 

And Jesus Christ, did he make a show out of doing that. Jean had never been so turned on by watching someone eat fried food before. The way he eyed the cheese as it dripped out the end of the shell and then _ever_ so daintily flicked out his tongue to catch it… Jean had always made it a point to stand there while he took the first bite and _watch_ this sinful spectacle, ask him if it was any good, and then walk away trying to ignore the fact that his pants felt significantly tighter in the front. And the one time he’d noticed a fleck of white on Marco’s smooth, dark skin? He’d had to excuse himself for a ‘smoking’ break (even though Levi knew he didn’t smoke) because there was no way he would have been able to continue working without someone noticing. 

And on that day, he hadn’t done any of it.

“What the fucking hell, Ymir?” Jean growled. Ymir scoffed.

“I told him he had to wait for one of your tables to open up because you would have had a conniption if you didn’t get to see him.”

“You did _what?!_ ” Jean spat.

“What? He accepted it. And he made the cutest sound when I happened to add that everyone here knows how stupidly in love with him you are.”

And that was pretty much the part where Jean’s heart stopped. And he’d had to get through the rest of Marco’s stay like that. It hadn’t been until later that he’d found out Ymir was completely lying about telling him Jean was in love with him, but he still blamed Marco’s sudden shyness on her entirely.

Shyness that had lasted into the next day, and the day after that. Jean had tried to talk it out of him what was bothering him so much, and on the second night that Marco had somewhat implied that they should hang out beyond half an hour inside a Red Robins.

And so Jean had made up his mind to give Marco his phone number. Today. Like hell he was going to miss out on that because Levi made him clean the shitty bathrooms. 

Jean raced to finish, and then raced back to the employee area to wash his hands and put on his apron. 

“Hey,” Ymir said, pulling him aside, “What time are you off tonight?”

“Off? I just got here,” Jean replied. “I’m done at 8:30. Why?”

“Just asking,” she said, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. Jean shrugged and walked back towards the kiosk.

“Your girlfriend’s a weirdo,” he mentioned to Krista as he passed her. Krista blushed and smiled. “Unless she’s got another Monday Night up her sleeve.”

“Oh trust me, it’s nothing like that,” Krista admitted.

“So she _is_ planning something?”

The color drained from Krista’s face, she smacked his arm with a menu. Jean laughed.

“G-go wait your first table!” she ordered, pushing him away in the direction of his section for the night. Jean snickered as he made his way over. He wasn’t even that concerned with whatever it was Ymir was planning on. He was giving Marco his phone number today, and he was determined to not look like an idiot while doing so.

But slowly, as the dinner rush picked up and tapered off and there was still no sign of him, the confidence he’d built up began to wear off. Why hadn’t he come in yet? It was getting so late. Surely he’d be off of work by now… had something happened? Surely he couldn’t have just _forgotten_. He came here every day. 

_Maybe Ymir told him not to come._

That was the dumbest thought he had ever had. Ymir didn’t even know Marco outside of greeting him every day when he walked in the door, right? Why would she tell him not to come in? 

_Maybe he knows._

That was the most terrifying thought he’d had all night. What if Marco had figured it out? What if he was avoiding him? What if it made him uncomfortable? What if he didn’t want to be anywhere near him?

“You look a little green,” came a voice from behind him. Jean turned and saw the evening assistant manager, Sasha, standing behind him.

“Oh, hey, Sash,” Jean greeted. “Nah, it’s nothing I’m just—“

“Worried about making a fool of yourself?” Sasha guessed, taking a bite of a few fries she’d swiped from the kitchen. Jean blinked.

“How’d you--?”

“I mean, considering who just walked in, it wasn’t that hard to guess.”

Jean turned around, hoping to see a familiar freckled face, but instead, he just grew even more sour.

“Oh what the fuck is he doing here?” Jean complained, seeing the familiar and not at all welcome tanned skin and light brown hair leaning on the wall. Of all places Jean did not want to have to deal with Eren Jaeger, it was here, where he wasn’t allowed to talk back. It was a prospect Jean never wanted to face.

It was at that moment that Eren looked up and noticed him. He grinned, leaning over to whisper to his sister and his best friend. Jean scowled.

“Fuck me,” Jean whined. Sasha shrugged.

“It looks like they’re headed off to Connie’s section, so it’ll probably be fine,” she reassured him. Jean gave her a look.

“He’s here, I’m already annoyed.”

“You’re such a child, Jean,” Sasha sighed.

“I’m a _man_ who can’t figure out how that guy manages to have friends,” Jean retorted. Sasha sighed and prodded him to get back to work before making herself scarce. Jean looked at his watch. It was 7:15. Marco still wasn’t here yet. He grew even more agitated, thinking through all the possible reasons why he wasn’t walking through the door again.

“This is driving me crazy,” he moaned to Connie as he passed, running his hands through his hair. Connie raised an eyebrow.

“What is?”

“It’s almost 7:30 and Marco isn’t here yet,” Jean replied. Connie snorted.

“ _You’re keeping track?_ ” he asked incredulously. Jean shot him a look.

“Shut up! He’s never not come before, and it’s an hour after the dinner rush. He usually stops in right after he gets off work. I’m starting to think that maybe something’s wrong…”

“Jean, man, calm down,” Connie interrupted, clapping him on the back. “I doubt anything’s wrong.”

“But he’s _never_ come this late…”

“What, were you planning on asking him out or something?”

“Wha- no! I was – _stop looking at me like that, Connie_ , I was going to give him my phone number.”

“Same thing,” Connie said with a shrug. “Stop freaking out, there’s still time. Besides, Ymir told him not to come until your shift was nearly over.”

“She did _what?!_ ”

“Oh, wait, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that!”

“ _God damn it, Ymir!_ ” Jean hissed. “When did she tell him that?”

“I mean, we all go to the same school,” Connie mused. “It’s not impossible that maybe they see each other outside of here, or that maybe she has his phone number.”

“That explains why she asked me when my shift ended…”

“Probably. Don’t tell her I told you, okay? She wanted it to be a surprise.”

“This is the worst surprise ever,” Jean grumbled. Connie shrunk.

“Then I guess I _shouldn’t_ tell you what else is going on.”

“What else is going on?” Jean snapped. Connie shook his head.

“Out with it, Springer.”

“Nope, just… just wait until Marco gets here, okay?”

He walked away. Jean made himself busy finishing up waiting the last two tables in his section, then busied himself by staring at his watch and sulking. There were only forty minutes left in his shift…

“Jean!” Sasha called, running over. “Good, you’re not busy, come on!”

“What? Why?” Jean asked.

“There’s a birthday! We need one more person!” she explained. Jean hesitated.

“Oh, Hell no. I’m not going to sing that shitty song.”

“Jean, it takes _thirty seconds,_ come on! Connie’s already got the flaming cake!”

Jean rolled his eyes and gave up, allowing the assistant manager to drag him over to where Connie was trying to light the red sparkler on the top of the red-dyed slice cake with red frosting. One time, someone had missed the sparkler and set the whole slice on fire. Since then, everyone affectionately referred to the desert as “Flaming Cake.”

Once the sparkler was lit, Sasha took the lead, clapping loudly in rhythm so everyone in the restaurant turned to look.

“Jean, whatever you do, just try not to look like you’re gonna kill someone,” Connie whispered before setting out after Sasha. Jean raised a brow, clapping his hands and following behind.

“Why would I--?”

“You’ll see.”

As the three of them made their way through Connie’s section, it became very apparent why Connie had asked him not to look murderous. 

_Oh no. No. Not him. It’s not his—please tell me it’s not fucking…_

The smug grin on Eren Jaeger’s face as he looked Jean dead in the eye told him everything.

“IT’S A RED ROBIN’S BIRTHDAY!” Sasha cried at the top of her lungs, still clapping her hands. Jean put on his best fake smile, not breaking eye contact with Eren, who began casually conducting the three employees with his finger, leaning his head on his free hand.

“HAPPY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY FROM ALL OF US TO YOU! WE WISH IT WAS OUR BIRTHDAY, SO WE COULD PARTY TOO!”

Of the three of them, Sasha cheered and applauded the loudest as Connie set the flaming cake in front of Eren, who was laughing and saying thank you. Armin was covering his face, which had turned bright red, and Mikasa was pointedly not looking at any of them. 

Jean turned on his heel and walked away at once. 

“I’m so sorry, he made the request to Levi and--” Connie began, running to catch up to him. 

“You owe me,” Jean cut him off before he got even more aggravated. He stormed across the restaurant floor, fully planning on heading to the back for a break when movement caught his eye. He turned his head, and saw Krista leading someone to a table in his section. A very familiar freckled someone.

_He’s here!_

Jean ran to the kiosk and pounded in one root beer, an appetizer order of mozzarella sticks, and a classic burger medium-rare with fries. He nearly slipped and fell on his ass sliding back to the kitchen to obtain the root beer. He took a few deep breaths as he filled the drink, trying to keep his face from looking too red when he walked over.

_Be cool, Jean,_ he told himself, _it’s Marco. You see Marco every day. Yeah, okay, you’re going to give him your phone number tonight, but still! Just Marco. Oh god, I really hope he didn’t see me singing._

Jean was unusually steady as he walked over. He smiled as he set the root beer down.

“Hey, Marco!” he greeted. “You’re late tonight.”

“Hey, Jean!” Marco responded before squirming in his chair. “Oh, yeah, I had something to take care of before coming…”

Jean’s eyes immediately flicked over him. He noticed that Marco had made himself a bit too dressed up for just coming to Red Robin. He was wearing a blue collared shirt and black slacks with a belt that Jean almost immediately began imagining himself taking off.

“You look nice,” he said, snapping his eyes back up to Marco’s face. “I’ll be honest, I was a little worried when you didn’t come in earlier.”

“Aw, that’s really sweet, Jean,” Marco replied with a gentle smile. Jean felt himself blush.

“Hey,” Marco continued, his expression changing to playful and cheeky as he leaned in. “Will you sing for me too if I tell the manager--?”

“ _Don’t you dare!_ ” Jean seethed, his blush worsening. Marco giggled.

“But it was so cute, though,” Marco teased. Jean clapped a hand over his face.

“That’s so embarrassing. I can’t believe you saw that.”

“Aw, _Jean—_ “

“Don’t ‘aw, Jean’ me! I’m going to get your mozz sticks.”

He could hear Marco laughing behind him as he walked back towards the kitchen, where the mozzarella sticks were waiting, as well as a smug looking Ymir.

“Gonna go get frustrated over some cheese?” she asked. Jean scowled at her.

“I do _not—_ “

“Oh, please, Jean,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’re such a horrible liar.”

“So is Marco,” Jean told her. “Why do I get the feeling he’s all dressed up and here right around when I get off work for a reason?”

Ymir grinned at him.

“You should be thanking me, Kirschtein.”

“I was just planning on giving him my phone number!” he repeated. Ymir rolled her eyes again.

“Well, I saved you the trouble. Have fun with your fried cheese,” she said as she stood up and brushed past him. Jean scowled at her as he picked up the plate and made his way back over. He purposely glared at her the whole way through Marco’s first bite.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Ymir’s just got a sick sense of humor,” Jean replied, making the mistake of looking back at Marco in time to see him with the strung-out cheese on his tongue. 

Jesus Christ.

_Please do to my dick what you’re doing to your food,_ he begged silently. 

“Any good?”

“It’s always good,” Marco replied after a swallow. Jean gulped. “Seriously, I’ve gained like ten pounds since I started coming here regularly. That’s how good they are.”

Jean laughed and excused himself to check on Marco’s burger. He ignored Connie and Sasha – who had decided to stalk him from behind the counter – as he walked into the kitchen. He was determined to make sure the last twenty minutes of his shift went as smoothly as possible. It was 8:18 when he finally printed out the bill.

The moment of truth. Jean took out his pen and glanced over at Marco where he was sitting, finishing the last of his fries. He paused before writing. What the hell was he even supposed to say? ‘Hey, I like watching you seductively eat mozz sticks, here’s my phone number, call me?’ He glanced over at Ymir and wondered just how she’d saved him the trouble. _What if she already gave him my number?_

He gave up, and wrote the first thing that came to mind.

**[Okay, so my coworkers are really shitty liars. I know that Ymir tipped you off about when my shift ended, and you came right when Connie said you would. I was planning on doing this anyway, but whatever the hell you and her have up your sleeves, consider me very interested. – Jean]**

He scribbled his phone number at the bottom of the bill and stuffed it into the small black pad. Jean walked back over and set the pad on the table with a small smile and cleared the table before turning away and leaving him alone with the bill and the note.

No turning back now. What if Marco didn’t like it? What if Jean had been misinterpreting this entire situation and he was about to get rejected really publically? He tried not to think about it. Jean looked at his watch. 8:22.

“All set?” Jean asked. Marco, who was noticeably quieter, nodded and handed the pad back to him. Jean saw that the tips of his ears were bright red, as he turned around and walked back to the kiosk. When he opened the pad, the first thing he saw was that Marco had left him a huge tip. The second thing was an arrow underneath his scribbled note. Jean turned the slip over and his eyes went wide.

**[Do you maybe want to catch a movie with me when you’re done?]**

“Are you okay, dude? You look like you’re about to combust,” Connie asked as he walked by.

“Connie,” Jean said. Connie raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah?” he asked hesitantly.

“You’re driving yourself back to campus.”

“He didn’t,” Connie breathed, breaking into a grin and following Jean’s gaze to the slip. “Gimme that! I wanna see!”

“No! Fuck off!” Jean responded, pushing him away. Connie laughed and darted over to Sasha. Jean could see him mouthing the words ‘he fucking did it!’ and the two of them burst into excited giggles. Jean rushed to print out Marco’s receipt and shuffled back to the table. Marco looked up expectantly as Jean handed him the receipt. Neither of them said anything for a moment, both pointedly not looking the other in the eye. Jean looked at his watch. 8:28.

“If you give me like, two minutes so I can clock out without Levi jumping down my throat, I’ll meet you out in the parking lot,” Jean finally said. Marco looked up and smiled brightly.

“Really?” he asked. Jean swore the guy was glowing. He nodded.

“Yeah, really,” he said. “Just don’t laugh at how sweaty and gross I am. I’ve been working for the last four hours straight.”

“It’s fine,” he said with a laugh. Jean shook his head.

“No, trust me, I do not look pretty right now.”

“I think you look pretty all the time, so...”

Both boys seemed equally stunned by Marco’s open statement. Jean stammered out some kind of unintelligent response before snatching up the pad and practically flying away. He shoved the store-copy receipt in to the register on his way to the back room, and was so nervous as he stripped off his apron that he punched the wrong numbers into the kiosk about six times before managing to clock out properly. He ran to the back room to grab his hoodie, wishing he’d thought to bring something nicer than that to wear over his red button down.

“Where are you going?” Sasha asked, blocking off the door, complete with cheeky grin.

“Sasha!” Jean whined, trying to push past her. She grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Come on! Tell us! Marco didn’t even tell Ymir that he was gonna ask you out! Where is he taking you?”

“Out,” Jean replied. Sasha frowned and grabbed him by the hair.

“Spill, horseface,” she growled, ignoring Jean’s simultaneous cry of pain and scoff at the use of his detested nickname.

“Ow! Ow, okay! Jesus. We’re just going to catch a movie. Happy?”

Sasha grinned and released him.

“Can I go now?” Jean asked.

“Okay! Have fun,” Sasha answered in a singsong voice, stepping aside so he could push the door open. “You two behave yourselves!”

“Excuse me?” Jean shot over his shoulder.

“Use condoms!” Sasha called over hers as she walked away.

_“Sasha!”_

The door slammed shut, muffling her peals of laughter. Jean scoffed and rounded the corner, trying to fix his hair as he walked out to the customer parking lot. His heart jumped the second he saw Marco leaning against his car and checking his cell phone while he waited. For Jean. _I’m going on a date with this guy._

“Hey,” Jean greeted, sidling up next to him. Marco jumped, slid his cell phone into his back pocket and straightened up. Jean’s eyes widened slightly when he realized that Marco was about an inch taller than him. 

“You look disheveled,” Marco commented, motioning to his hair. Jean scoffed and ran his hand through it again.

“I hate literally every single one of my friends,” he replied. “Sasha accosted me on the way out and made me tell her where we were going.”

“Is that why I just got like eight texts from Ymir telling me to behave myself?” Marco asked. Jean’s eyes went wide.

“Are you serious?”

Marco pulled out his phone and showed him.

**From: Ymir  
Have fun, kid.**

**From: Ymir  
Not TOO much fun xD**

**From: Ymir  
Don’t suck his dick.**

**To: Ymir  
I mean, you never know. Accidents happen**

**From: Ymir  
Don’t accidentally suck his dick either.**

**From: Ymir  
No sex on the first date.**

**From: Ymir  
Unless u have condoms!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**From: Ymir  
Then go nuts!!!!!!!!!!!**

 

“I’m pretty sure that was three different people using the same phone,” Marco noted, shoving the device back into his pocket and blushing furiously. Jean sighed.

“Again. I hate. Literally. All of my friends.”

Marco laughed nervously, and then paused, his gaze going over Jean’s left shoulder.

“They’re staring out the window, aren’t they?” Jean guessed. Marco nodded. 

“ _All of them_ ,” Jean hissed, sticking out his middle finger behind him and hearing a satisfied ‘thump’ as their onlookers retreated. This time Marco laughed for real. He bit his lip and tugged at his sleeve in the awkward silence between them.

“Shall we get going?” he asked. Jean nodded, but before he could move, Marco grabbed his wrist.

“Marco?”

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. Jean’s mind went blank. “I mean… I’ve kind of, been thinking about it. For a while. And—“

“Yes,” Jean said, cutting him off. “Yes, you can kiss me.”

Marco’s grip on his wrist tightened, and he took a step forward.

“But only after we get in the car,” Jean stipulated with a grin. “Otherwise we’ll never get out of here.”

Marco smiled sheepishly and let him go. Jean practically leaped over the back and let himself in the passenger side. He didn’t move until Marco reached for the sleeve of his hoodie.

Jean smiled into the kiss, because Marco tasted like ketchup, hamburger and fried mozzarella.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jean whispered as they broke away. 

Marco smiled and turned the ignition.


End file.
